Seneca Surrender (21 page)
His hands cupped her face as his tongue stroked hers. Meanwhile, his fingers grazed her cheeks, her eyes, her ears, her neck. It was enchantment pure and simple, and with a sigh, Sarah settled in closer to him.
He exhaled heavily, his breathing hard and fast, as he said, “Do you know what you do to me?”
“I little know unless ’tis a little like what happens to me. ’Tis soul-stirring.”
As she spoke, White Thunder had begun to press kiss upon kiss against her neck and with a high-pitched groan, she succumbed to the mastery of his skill, falling in completely toward him. She arched her back, that she might partake of his ardor more fully, and he was quick on the uptake, his fingers caressing her every sensitive spot, while he worked his way down to her breasts, where he kneaded each gentle mound.
She sucked in her breath and as she did so, his brisk, musky scent filled her lungs, while the hard, yet smooth feel of his skin next to hers acted like an aphrodisiac. It was as though this man belonged to her, as though he were hers to explore. Perhaps she, too, belonged to him.
But it could never be, she reminded herself. She was not so out of touch with reality that she had lost track of what each of their societies expected of them. Nor was she unaware that what was happening between them was forbidden.
Still, being here with him, like this, was akin to ecstasy, and opening her eyes, she made a mental note of the time and place, and what was happening to her and to him, anything that she might be able to commit to memory. Never would she forget him. Never.
“Mr. Thunder,” she said, “has it occurred to you that perhaps we are not meant—and have never been meant—to marry? Maybe we have been thrust together for one single purpose, which is for you to save me, and for I to help you with your burden.”
He paused shortly, his attention riveted on her, though she could have sworn he was deep in thought. But it wasn’t long before he shook his head, obviously disagreeing with her.
However, there was more she needed to say, and she continued, “Perhaps we are here to do nothing more than help each other and make memories—memories that will comfort us in our old age, memories that when we think of them, will bring a smile to us both.”
He groaned. “I already have too many memories,” he said, grimacing. “Rather, I would like a flesh-and-blood woman in my arms for the rest of my life, however long or short that is.” He paused. “But if it is memories that you wish, I will make memories with you.”
She was frowning. “Perhaps we could even pretend.”
“Pretend? ”
“Yes, as in make believe. Maybe, for just a little while we could imagine that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. That there is only you and me; no duty to bind us, no social order to pass judgment on us. Just us. For as long as we’re in this cave, perhaps we could pretend that we’re married.”
His expression went grim. “Until?”
“Until we are forced to leave here and go back to our own worlds.”
His look at her was brooding as he said, “What you suggest is to love without responsibility.” His eyes narrowed at her. “What man could possibly walk away from such a proposal? ”
Was he being sarcastic?
She didn’t answer him, and when it was evident that she had nothing more to say on the matter, he continued speaking, saying, “I would be foolish, however, if I didn’t bring to your attention that there is a danger in what you ask.”
“A danger?”
“You might truly fall in love with me, as I might with you, also, and yet our marriage would be based on pretense.”
“But if we did fall in love, the memories would be all the more precious.”
“Memories.” He snorted again. “There is a saying amongst the Seneca that goes: To love a woman without a lifelong commitment is either the action of great youth or one of stupidity.” He paused. “I am not that young.”
She swallowed hard. “Then, sir, your answer is no?”
“It is not. My answer is yes. Let’s do it. Let’s pretend. But beware: I fear you play with fire.”
She was still frowning. “Your warning is well taken, sir. But still I would like to chance it.”
He nodded. “When the time comes, you will remember that I warned you?”
She stared deeply into his eyes. “I will.”
What had happened to her? she wondered. Indeed, it was with a great deal of shock that she realized that she had changed. She was not the same person she had been before she met White Thunder.
For one thing, his viewpoints about life and the dignity of man were having an effect upon her thought process. Not that she would let her servitude go unfulfilled. Rather, she would treasure this time with him, these moments of complete freedom from the chains of her bondage.
Bondage … It was fast becoming a naughty word in her vocabulary, and she wondered, was a person meant to be fettered to another by reason of debt?
Perhaps not, she thought. There was something to be said for living off the land and being beholden to none. Though there was no money to be made here and no toil to be done for another in exchange for coin, she and White Thunder yet had all they needed, provided by Nature. In many ways, the experience was proving to be more than a little uplifting.
White Thunder shifted positions so that he could rub his palms up and down her spine, and the hard feel of his muscles next to her, the pressure of his touch, the way their bodies fit together flawlessly, seemed somehow perfect.
At last, he came up over her, and smoothing one of his hands over her face, he caressed her cheeks, her lips, her nose, her eyes. He said, “Do not think because I warn you of the dangers of what you propose that I am against what you ask. I would be honored to make memories with you. Let us start now. Let us remember this moment always.”
“Aye,” she said. “Yes.”
With a gentle touch, he trailed his fingertips over to her ears, down her throat and around to the back of her neck. Everywhere he touched, her body responded as if it had never known such joy. She shut her eyes and moaned, and as each new wave of passion consumed her, she swooned in against him.
He kissed her, his lips paying respect to her everywhere, while his tongue traced each delicate feature. And he whispered, “You possess the bluest eyes I have ever seen. But it is not only their color that holds me spellbound to you. It is the fact that when I look into your eyes, I am presented with the glimpse of a spirit that is as gentle it is true. You are an unusual woman, Miss Sarah. You are also a good woman. Every day of your life, you should be told what a treasure you are.”
He lay back and brought her onto her side against him while his fingers continued to massage her back.
“I have never been able to fathom the dress of the English,” he whispered against her ear, and it became evident that he was trying to untie the strings that held her stays together.
She said, “’Tis not so different from the way you dress. But, sir, what is it you intend? We have never had to remove my corset before.”
He grinned at her. “What do you think, Miss Sarah? We have made love, but I have yet to see you naked.”
“Naked? ”
He nodded.
“What you are suggesting, sir, is unseemly.”
“It is not unseemly,” he argued. “It is beauty, and it is my wish to view you—all of you.”
“But, Mr. Thunder, not even a married woman will allow her husband to behold her in the altogether. Dignity alone would ensure that she would at least wear her chemise, even to bed.”
He shook his head. “The English are, indeed, a strange people. What man would not like to see his wife naked?”
“Perhaps there are many,” she replied and smiled at him.
“I would still like to undress you completely.”
“But … I cannot allow it.”
“Not even if I beg?” he asked. “Or do this?” His hand slipped down to caress her breasts. “Or this?” He bent to suckle on each of her breasts.
It was seduction, pure and simple, and she drew in her breath. “You cheat, sir.” But even as she said it, she was already moaning and settling herself in closer to him.
“Of course I cheat, as have all men throughout history. And any man who is a man would cheat against such vulgar rules.”
“They are not vulgar, sir. The opposite is true.”
“Not to me. When it comes to making love to my wife, I wish to do it right.”
“Right … but what is the right way?”
“It is the way that my wife and I decide is right.”
“Hmm … I like the way you say that … your wife … even though it’s not really true.”
“But it is true,” he said, casting her a seductive grin. “Are we not pretending? Miss Sarah, I am but a man, and I have dreamed of seeing you with nothing between us but the sweat of our exertions.”
Again she moaned.
“Please,” he said. “Show me how to remove this.”
She found herself weakening, and why not? She realized that she was fighting a losing battle anyway. Even now his hands were all over her, and it felt good.
Perhaps he was right. Maybe it was natural for married couples to make love naked.
At last she said, “Very well, but we’ll take off the stays and no more.”
He didn’t disagree, but then he didn’t agree either. She sat slightly away from him, presenting her back to him. “My stays lace here and tie here. Do you see?”She guided his hands to the laces. “If you pull the string here, the entire knot comes out and they loosen.”
He pulled.
“You will have to free them completely up and down before the garment can be removed.”
He did so, and the corset relaxed, allowing him to pull it away from her. But there was another set of clothing beneath this, her chemise, and he seemed as perplexed to find it as she was overjoyed to be without the tight pull of her stays, even if only for a few moments.
He commented, “You have on more clothes.”
“Aye, sir, I do.” She grinned, and he immediately took advantage and kissed her open mouth. It was utterly erotic, completely seductive, and melting in against him, she kissed him back one for one.
He asked, “What do I take off next?”
She pretended to misunderstand, and said, “Your shirt.”
Almost as quickly as she’d said it, he discarded his shirt, then he returned to her. He murmured, “And now, what of
yours
do I remove next?”
yours
do I remove next?”
“Oh, did you mean
my
clothes, sir?”
my
clothes, sir?”
“Exactly.”
“Perhaps that would be my petticoats, then. They tie around the waist here.” She took his hands and guided them to the garment’s knot.
He was a quick learner and had untied her petticoats without difficulty. In barely a moment, the garment was off.
“And now what?”he asked.
“My chemise is the only item left, as you can see,” she said. “But I would advise you against taking it off. I am naked enough, just like this. I feel I must stress that proper women undress no more than this, even to bathe.”
“I think you are a proper woman,” he said, “but this is still not naked enough for me.” And so saying, he pulled the garment up slowly. Once it had been raised over her knees, he bent down to trail kisses along its path, to her joints and thighs. And as the chemise gradually rose up higher and higher over her body, he followed its progress with his lips, lingering there at the junction of her legs. He parted her legs and kissed her … there …
Sarah immediately raised her hips. Dear Lord, what was this? The feeling was extraordinary. And though embarrassment might have consumed her, it simply wasn’t possible to be feel guilty and pleasured all at the same time.
But he didn’t linger there, and as he pulled the garment farther upward, his kisses followed the trail of her clothes until at last he found her breasts. First he kissed one, then the other. Curiously, though he was raising himself up over her, one of his hands had never left the delicacy between her legs.
“Open for me,” he said between kisses.
She spread her legs, never thinking to disobey him. Then, with his fingers taking possession of her femininity, he did love her. He watched her as a tempest took hold of her, and she rocked with the rhythm of his fingers. It was as though she were a one-woman exhibition, a show played only for him, and no matter how long he looked, he couldn’t see enough.
She had never felt more adored.
In due time, with his fingers still creating their magic at the apex of her legs, he moved up over her chest until he had come up to her bosom. First he kissed one of her breasts, his tongue encircling her nipple erotically, then he shifted to the other. It was as though she were a delicate instrument and he were playing her.
The feelings he was arousing in her were so finely luxurious, Sarah began to wonder how she had lived without this all her life. But he wasn’t done. Indeed, it appeared he had only begun. With one hand, he pulled her chemise up over her head, while his kisses followed the garment’s path, to her neck, cheeks and on upward, to the top of her head.
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